


Ocean Air

by Helicon



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: (in a way I guess), Beach Sex, Bloodplay, F/M, Knotting, Mild Gore, Near-Drowning and Threats Of Drowning, Painplay, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 03:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helicon/pseuds/Helicon
Summary: Some familiar-unfamiliar territory.





	Ocean Air

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Title: Inherit the Knotmare, Final Form
> 
> This one was nearly finished when I gave up, and I couldn’t just leave it. Finally, it’s May and I’ve written something in 2018. Sorry about the wait, but I got wildly inspired by the cut content — especially Moon Presence’s cut forms. Loved them. So much.

It was a deep, watery darkness at first that told Gehrman he was dreaming again. Nothing too unlike his usual nightmares, though usually he wasn’t quite submerged… not a big deal, these were the easier ones to wake up from. After all, he couldn’t hold his breath forever, and when he finally did inhale his brain would get so confused at air where there should have been water, that he would find himself in the Dream again.

Not like there was anything happening here, and there really was no time like the present…

Before he could even open his mouth, something strong and slippery wrapped around his leg like an eel, pulling, determined to drag him — further down? Into the current? Up?

Up, and forward…

Towards the shallows it pulled him, as he realized with only mild concern that the water was real, that he hadn’t been dreaming. If Gehrman were younger, if he had spent less time in the capricious graces of the Moon Presence, the change would have frightened him half to death, but this was undoubtedly another one of her strange attempts to get his attention. Above the water was still darkness, as if in the dead of night she had taken him far, far away from the Dream.

Atmospherically sinister, the coast lined with ruins, and a starless sky that somehow still gave off a dim light, this new scenery had nearly no land — just three-inch-deep water at its shallowest point and patches of muddy sand.

And there on that stretch of supposed land loomed an earthly-bound Flora, body distorted and barely held together, bloblike, but certainly still her. Her skeletal arms reached forward, taking Gehrman in her awkward and gentle clutches, and she seemed pleased enough when all he gave her was a look of discontent and barely so much as a wiggle. She jostled her body on tentacles thick like tree trunks, murring and causing the ground to rumble with her, ripples from the shallow water out into the endless sea.

Gehrman coughed up seawater and freed an arm from her hold to wipe at his face with a waterlogged sleeve. “I don’t suppose you could have just come down and woken me for this.”

 _The Hunter,_ she croaked, is still in the Dream. _Too early to show myself._

“That’s never stopped you before.”

_She won’t leave._

“And could you not have waited?”

_I wanted you here._

“Well—ah, loosen your grip a little, Flora, I’m not going anywhere now—you have me here.” Looking around, Gehrman turned back to Flora and raised a brow. “Should I act impressed? Kos’s was better-maintained.”

Flora shrugged, running a taloned thumb down Gehrman’s back, giggling at the shiver he never managed to hold back after all this time. _Kos had a whole village attending to her… and, do I let every single hunter in here?_

“Duly noted,” muttered Gehrman. At the same time he both hated and loved the way he immediately reacted to her claw on his tailbone, arching his lower back into her touch, on an impulse, seeking more. She tore through the rear of his trousers, a straight line from the waist down, making him squirm at the cool air, sigh at the warm trickle of blood down his thigh that followed as she broke skin along with fabric.

_This is alright?_

“More than I’d care to admit…”

 _Good._ Flora purred when Gehrman blindly reached for her face, grasping at some of her smaller tendrils. She lowered her hollow head towards his, to nuzzle at his cheek. _I… appreciate that you want to stay this time._

Gehrman brushed a wandering tendril away from his face. “I haven’t got anywhere else to be.”

_I saw you eyeing the new Hunter._

“She’s got eyes for the Doll.” He laughed. “As for whether it’s women or dolls she likes… well. Search me.”

 _You liked the Doll._ Flora curled a tendril lightly around Gehrman’s neck. _Was she not what you wanted?_

Squirming away from her tendril, Gehrman glanced to the side and lowered his hand from her face. “This is hardly the time.” Mid-thigh, almost lovingly, her claw dug deeper. He flinched as she hit bone — how was he not bleeding out? Or bleeding much at all? The metallic tang hit him harder as she drew the digit out, upwards, staining another red line up his back and trailing shivers in its wake.

Multiple tendrils crept up his pants leg, slipping under the prosthetic’s buckles and making Gehrman yank his leg away with a shout. “Don’t do that!” he hissed. Flora chuckled, prodded at the corner of his mouth with her bloodied claw. Her expressionless face still somehow radiated amusement, warmth… “If you have to, use one that hasn’t been inside me recently. If you don’t mi—“

Flora rolled over onto her back, taking Gehrman with her and settling him down on her hips. A wriggling cluster of something pressed up against the small of his back — worming up his shirt, through the tear in his pants…

Her hands set on his waist, claws immediately circling him. Longer tentacles crept up his shirt, laid themselves neatly into the hollow of his collarbone, slipped up through the high collar to caress his face. She hummed contentedly in time with his quiet breaths, rocked her hips into his, while pressing her tendrils into the seam of his pants to work against the stitching and eventually did pull them apart. Given much freer reign, Flora pulled Gehrman closer towards her, giving him leverage and her more room to work with.

He grabbed her ribs, pushing his lower body back into her tendrils, sighing and tensing up his legs where they brushed against the underside of his shorts. Their dampness soaked through as they slipped up a leg hole.

 _Go on, then,_ she hummed. _I want you to ride me this time._

Despite leaning into her, working himself open on the little tentacles, Gehrman stiffened his jaw and laughed. “Are you sure? I thought you liked control.”

 _I could turn us over, push your head into the water. Drown you_.

Gehrman hiccuped as the tentacle writhed deeper, further in, gently thrusting.

_Does that sound good?_

“No, no, I would rather you didn’t…”

_Then what do you want?_

His hands on hers, holding them tighter to his hips ‘til they were sufficiently firm, then grasping her ribs with not quite the strength to bend them, but close. He took that one tendril to the hilt and picked himself back up, panting, a grin forming.

“I want another.”

She had no mouth, and every time they went at it Gehrman felt drawn to the fact, but he could feel her smile.

_And you’ll have it._

The first one was nothing; the second, a stretch, a pleasant burn from the get-go. Flora took her time. There, that’s it, she mused. Breathe, now, let me in… One pushed inward, one pulled out, each making room for the other until they would both fit. She restrained him as he bucked his hips into the pressure, short gasps with every move, legs trembling on either side of her waist. The combined force of two tendrils inside meant no part of him was truly left alone, and when Gehrman buried his face in her flesh to muffle a shout, she hummed and pulled him back onto her full lengths for more.

Other curious tentacles wriggled their way up to his front, to wrap around his half-hardened cock now trapped between the both of them. Flora held him tight to her front, one hand an unyielding weight on his back as she barely lifted her hips upward to press against his ass, forcing both tendrils in. Gehrman’s vision blurred and doubled — the speed at which she’d begun to fuck him, the tentacles squirming inside and pressing hard on his prostate with zero letup and him crying out wordlessly for more with every instance of contact, was bordering on unbearable.

In an effort to maintain some kind of dignity and composure as it slipped out of his grasp, Gehrman bit hard on his tongue but only succeeded in drawing blood. Flora’s claws dug into his coat, ripping through, rending flesh in her direction as if to draw in what was hers. His back arched down and away from her talons. They only followed him.

Softer, though. Loving scrapes, quiet murmurs, a clean fingertip against his lips for silence. Waves lapped up against the two where none had before — an apology? Ocean noises did nothing to ease the old hunter’s nerves.

Somehow he was still hard.

Her finger pushed past, tapping on clenched teeth for entry.

“Absolutely _not!”_

She gave a great lumbering shrug and pulled away. Her hips bucked upwards, forcing him so close that with his coat in the way it was difficult to tell whose body started where. Leaning in for a quick nuzzle, Flora conveyed just how close she was getting, punctuated by a few short thrusts — Gehrman hadn’t taken her like this before, she wanted to warn him—

 _Fine, then,_ she muttered as Gehrman blocked her out in a haze.

One of his hands moved back, trailing up a tendril that wouldn’t quite fit in and had settled against his lower back. His breath hitched as the tentacles spasmed — it almost felt like they were one now, forcing shameful little noises out of his mouth every time they (it?) slammed against his insides. The base of it thickened and set off an orgasm that temporarily erased any concern Gehrman had about something so new. Nothing fazed him then, not when he was seeing so many stars that weren’t even there, or grounding himself in the sharpness of Flora’s claws in his thigh and the sea around them roaring, splashing, salt water stinging his new and half-healed wounds.

When he came to, dizzy and nauseated, Flora had not removed herself. When he tried to do it himself, he found that they were stuck together.

Her voice in his head, mocking, mincing, awful. _I did try to warn you._

She’d knotted him. _Knotted_ him, like some sort of beast to its mate…

Dread and anger rose in his throat until, with a gulp and a sick, wet cough, he realized it wasn’t quite either. Pinkish off-white, sticky cum dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and onto his sleeve, in short spurts, and then a steady stream.

“Flora,” he moaned between coughs. “This isn’t—“

 _It will stop._ Her knot hardened, her cock gave another pulse. It certainly wouldn’t be any time soon.


End file.
